Dead Drop
by MorokBear-Cleaver
Summary: An epic tale which tells the story of a brave bounty hunter, Jarro, and his quest from an unknown client to deliver several dead drops to his men.
1. Chapter 1

It was going to take while. A _long _while. Frankly, Jarro couldn't begin to comprehend how long it was going to take. He knew when he got into this business that he would have to travel a lot. But walking from Solitude to Riften was simply stupid. But alas, he had to do it if he wanted his coin.

See, Jarro was a bounty hunter, and at that precise moment he had been given a mission by a unknown client to find six dead drops, take the money inside and deliver it to one of his men in Windhelm. Jarro had no idea what this client was like, but judging by the importance and formality of it all, he assumed it was a high-ranking nobleman. But it wasn't his place to ask. He just did what he was asked.

He wasn't the brightest man in Skyrim, but he was more intelligent than most. He had long, black hair, and often walked around in Steel Plate Armour with a black, fur cloak around it. His choice of weaponry was two scimitars, as well as a rare crossbow he looted from a dead troll. He had no idea how the crossbow even got in the troll to begin with. So Jarro just assumed he swallowed it by accident, and so when he punched the beast in the stomach, it triggered the bolt inside and ruptured the poor creature's organs. It would have been a funny sight if it's blood and guts hadn't flew onto Jarros' armour.

But anyway, Jarro had already taken five dead drops, but he was unsure where the last one was. The other five had a map that directed him, but the last had none at all, it just said 'Delvin'. Jarro instantly remembered a tale he once heard of a thief in the tunnels below Riften, named Delvin Mallory. So, off he went from his last pick-up in Solitude. All the way to Riften. He had, however, made good time. In just one day alone he reached Ivarstead, and now he was in the birch tree forest that surrounded the Rift like moths surrounded a torch.

Then, in the midst of it all, a giant frostbite spider appeared out of the blue, and started towards the Bounty hunter. Jarro calmly pulled out his scimitars, without any fear in his eyes, and walked towards the disgusting creature. They stared at eachother for half a minute or so, before they charged. The spider tried hitting him with one of his claw-like legs, but Jarro quickly dodged it, going in for an attack. The spider ducked it, grabbing on the scimitars, then tossing it aside. Jarro only sighed as he swiped at the creature again. The spider again dodged out the way, but made a mistake. Jarro was only working out a complex feint, and before the spider knew one of his legs was in a tree. It spat out in disgust, and one of the huge globs of poison hit Jarro in the face. Luckily he was wearing a helmet, but he was blinded nonetheless. He was dancing about, swiping aimlessly, like a Khajiit on skooma. The spider, without hesitation, jumped upon the man and started trying to hack away his armour plates. Jarro brought up his scimitar in defence, but it was knocked aside like the last by the spider. He was now defenceless, the spider had already broke off one plate of steel and was making short work of another. It all looked like the end for our bounty hunter, until he remembered his crossbow. He grabbed it from under his back and quickly reloaded it. The spider had taken off most of the front plates, so Jarro only had one chance to prolong his life. He let out a long breath, and just before the spider stabbed him and ripped out his organs, Jarro pulled the trigger. Blue blood erupted from the spider's head, as the steel bolt shot clean through its brain. It's body slumped back, then fell onto Jarro. The hunter quickly rolled it away, before standing up and looking down at his armor.

"This was new." he scowled at the dead creature.

Almost to punish the dead creature for breaking his armour, Jarro took the cut-off leg of the creature down from the tree, glued it onto a branch, creating a spear. He looked down the weapon, as to spot any flaws. Once he made sure there were none, he plunged it several times into the spider's neck, slowly decapitating it. He then picked up the head, stabbed it through the spear and stuck the weapon in the ground, as a warning to any other monsters wanting to hurt the man.

After Jarro had carefully stuck the plates on as best he could, he carried on, down a barely-noticeable path through the long, orange grass. He had picked up his scimitars, and now his fingers barely moved from their handle, ready to bring them out at the first sign of danger. It wasn't long before he reached a tiny village made up of wooden huts and small farms. Jarro noticed the entrance to a mine at the southern end. He decided this was a good place to rest, as it was nearly night, and see about getting his armour fixed. So he entered the small town.

It wasn't any surprise to Jarro that the townspeople eyed him with suspicion, and nearly outright disgust. For a start, he was an Imperial, and the Rift was Stromcloak Controlled. Jarro didn't really care much for politics or the Civil War, but he much preferred his own people to that of the barbaric Nords. And also, it wasn't hard to work out he was a bounty hunter or mercenary of some kind. As such, wherever he went, whatever he did, he always had a heavy set of eyes upon his back.

He decided to get a drink at the Inn, and rest for the night. He walked into the small, fairly-shabby building, and sat at the uneven bar. Two Nords sat either side, eyeing him like he'd killed their sons.

"What's your business here, filthy Imperial?" one of them asked, spitting at the hunter.

Jarro simply stared at him, "that's my private information."

"Maybe. But right now you're in Redriver's Run, and so now, you're business is our business. I just don't want to have you drag some Imperial raiding party down here. I mean, after all, what would an Imperial be doing this far south of Solitude?" the man explained, openly scowling.

Jarro ignored the question, "Redriver's Run, you say? I think 'The Skeeverhole' is a much more... suiting name. Don't you think?"

The Nords stared at him angrily, then lashed out with daggers. All Jarro did was duck, and so the two Nords impaled eachother with the blades, blood already catching in their throats.

"Name's Jarro, by the way."

That midnight, Jarro paid for a room and went to sleep straight away, still in his armour. Tomorrow he would fix his armour, and try to buy a horse. But even with one, it was still a long ride to Riften, so the bounty hunter made sure to get a good night's sleep.

When Jarro awoke he had the feeling he had been hit in the back of the head with a hammer. He also noticed he could see nothing but blackness. He moaned, and noted the floor he was on was stone, not wood.

"I think the filthy pig has woken up!" a harsh, Nord voice shouted, chuckling. Jarro deduced he wasn't the only one.

"Finally. I was beginning to think he was dead!" another laughed.

"Yeah! What a shame that would be, eh?" yet another voice mocked.

Suddenly the room was full of laughter.

Then, after a minute or so, silence followed and the bag was lifted from Jarro's head. The light blinded him, and it took a few minutes before he could see where he was. Jarro was in a natural cavern of some kind. No artificial light was here, Jarro noted. The only light was from several small holes in the rock above, where the harshness of the sun only barely reached. Various wooden ramparts were built against the cave walls, and Nords were busy at work hitting the walls with pickaxes. Jarro assumed this must have been the town mine.

"You know why you're here, wretched Imperial?!", a Nord grabbed him from behind.

"I'm guessing I annoyed you." Jarro said.

"Annoyed me?!" the Nord walked around, now in frotn of the bounty hunter. The Nord was dressed in fur armour, made of hides and pelts that had clearly not been washed fully, and neither had he. The Nord had several tattoos in his face. He was a traditional Nord. The worst. "You killed both my sons yesterday!"

"Your sons?" it took Jarro a minute to work out what the Nord was talking about. "Oh. Oooooooh. The ones in the inn yesterday? No, I think you're mistaken. I merely made a suggestion for a better city name and they both tried to kill me. I ducked and they both stabbed eachother."

"You expect me to believe that?!" The Nord shouted.

"Well I don't expect you to, you're a Nord after all. But if you had even a scrap of intelligence, you'd know I was right." Jarro said.

The Nord then ran forward and grabbed the bounty hunter's head, yanking it from side-to-side. "You know who I am, hmm? I am Holfgir Iron-Fist. I have killed over a dozen of your vile kind! And I'm always trying to add more!" The Nord then brought out a dagger, and tried to stab Jarro with it.

Unfortunately for the Nord, however, Jarro swiped out of the way in time. Then, when Holfgir tried again, Jarro avoided it, and ten bit the man's hand. The Nord dropped the dagger, and before he knew it, Jarro had already cut his bonds.

He stood up and backed away, to the far wall. "Tell me," he began, "why do you have no torches? No lamps in here? I mean, it's not very bright down here."

When no one answered, he asked again.

Finally, a young voice from the back of the group of barbaric Nords piped up, "it's an old mine. We once cut directly into a cavern full of flammable gas. We destroyed the tunnels leading down to it, but some of the townsfolk believe some might have come up through little cracks."

"Hmm, good to know." Jarro mused. Then, he threw the dagger at Holfgir, and ran towards him. He grabbed the dagger out of his body and jumped off it it, propelling himself several feet behind the group. Two Nords came at him with swords, but he ducked out of the way in time and stabbed them both in the neck. Another tried with a warhammer, but Jarro made short work. He'd barely even been dismembered before Jarro was onto the next. Another three circled him, waiting for the bounty hunter to strike first. Finally, Jarro tried at one of them, but he dodged, and before he knew it, a small piece of string was around Jarro's throat.

"Finish him!" one of the Nords shouted.

The one who dodged Jarro's attack earlier started at him, but the bounty hunter ran backwards, hitting the man behind him against a wall. The Nordd slumped to the ground, and jarro stabbed the other two.

Only one Nord stood in his way now, a hulking one with an Orcish Warhammer. He brought up his hammer, but Jarro ran up one of the wooden ramparts. The Nord scowled and walked after him. Jarro was now cornered once again, and the Nord brought his weapon up for a second time. Then, in the nick of time, Jarro notcied a chain danglnig from the cavern ceiling. He jumped towards it, grabbing it with his free hand. He swung himself around and jumped back onto the rampart. But now he was behind the Nord.

"After you." Jarro said, but instead stabbed the burly man clean through the neck.

The Nord's body fell of the rampart and was impaled through an old wooden cart.

Jarro walked towards the mine entrance, until he was out in the open again. He sighed heavily, before breathing in a big gulp of fresh, Skyrim air. He found his weapons stacked against a boulder and took them, fastening the scabbards to his belt. He was about to leave when he had an idea. He grabbed a barely lit lantern from the ground, and without turning around, he chucked the lantern into the mine shaft. Then, he slowly walked back through the village, until he heard a low moan.

"I'll... kill you!" Holfgir shouted at the mine entrance, ba pool of his own blood surrounding him. He was crawling effortlessly towards Jarro.

But instead of trying to kill him again, Jarro turned back round and walked once again through the quiet village. Then, quite suddenly, an explosion of fire erupted through the entrance and out of the top of the mine. Smoke and flames roared through the air at once, reaching the huts. Slowly, one by one, the town burnt to the ground. Flames licked about the dead settlement and screams of pain and despair rung through the wind like a dark song. In one second, an entire village blew up, killing hundreds. Children were slowly roasted alive, livestock were killed and plumes of smoke came like a cloak, surrounding the dead village.

And Jarro smiled.

To Be Continued in Chapter Two


	2. Chapter 2 - A City Ablaze

Chapter Two

Jarro walked on, past the burning village, through the forest of white trees, blowing softly in the wind. Only then did it occur to the hunter that he didn't get his armor fixed. He sighed softly but dismissed it quickly, once he was in Riften he would send for Balimund, the local blacksmith.

It only took a couple more days walking before Jarro saw the small, wooden town of Riften in the distance. Jarro smiled slightly, walking up to the gate.

"Whoah there. Before I let you into Riften..." one of the two guards outside began

Jarro tossed them both a sack of coin and they immediately opened the gate. He walked in and immediately noticed the marketplace in the middle of the town, bustling with traders, most of whom were probably criminals.

"You there!" a burly Nord in steel armor roared from one of the alleyways.

"What?" Jarro answered back in a levelled tone.

"You're new here, and the Black-Briars don't like new people in their turf." the Nord said.

"Hmph. Tell them they better get used to it." Jarro said, walking on.

That's when he remembered he had no idea where the dead drop was. He wandered around for hours, checking under every rock and behind every tree, but he found nothing. So he decided to head to the inn.

Jarro had rented a room for the night and read at it's desk. He had the dead drop location letter in his hands. He tried searching for some subtle hint, but all it said was in 'the town of wood, surrounded by birch, deep inside you'll find what you search', it must have been a riddle, Jarro wasn't stupid, the others just said where, but he had no idea how to solve it.

"But what does it mean?!" Jarro smacked a fist down on table.

The innkeeper, a feisty Argonian called Keerava ran up the stairs. When she noticed no one had broke in, she scowled.

"Don't do that!"

"Sorry, it's just I need to figure out this riddle." Jarro apologized.

"Why don't you just get some barrels of mead down you. I think a lot better when I'm full of mead!" Keerava joked.

"'Barrels'?" Jarro repeated, "that's it! It's made of wood, birch wood. It's in a barrel. The dead drop's in a barrel!". At that moment he ran out of the room.

It had been nearly an hour, and all Jarro had found in barrels were kettles, cabbages and one oddly-shaped wooden stick. Finally, Jarro had come to a barrel outside of a house called Honeyside. He reached around the barrel, trying to find any symbols, when he found what felt like a diamond shape. He popped off the lid and found a huge sack, full of coin,

"Hoo-Eeh! That must be over two-and-a-half-thousand coins!" Jarro mused.

When Jarro woke up, he was still in the Inn's room, and for that he prayed. A tap on the door ensued and Keerava ran in. The bad thing though, was that Jarro was getting dressed at that time.

"Whoah!" Jarro shouted.

"Oh, well um... I apologize! I didn't realize. Julianos that's big. But, hmph. Anyway, you have a letter." Keerava said, trying to look away but seemingly transfixed by Jarro's private coinpurse.

Keerava left and Jarro opened the sealed letter.

"_Meet us at the Riften Warehouse in precisely ten minutes. If you do not, you will be killed." _it read. Jarro immediately put his armour on, fixed from Balimund that last night. He then walked out the Inn and out of the city, coming to a stop at the big, heavy wooden doors, leading to the Warehouse. He sighed, making sure all dead drops were on him, and then opened the door.

He was encircled by at least nine Nords. They all dressed in rusty, clearly poorly-maintained, iron armour. The one in the middle however wore bright green, fine clothes and had clean-cut, blonde hair. He then stepped forward and spoke,

"So... we meet again Jarro Edecar. I assume you have the Dead Drops?"

"Yes." Jarro replied, handing all six gold bags to the client.

The nobleman nodded, smiling, "You did good, Jarro. You _are_ as good a bounty hunter as they say. You did come in handy. In fact I would employ your services again, but, you know... _business is business."_

"Busi-?" Jarro started, then noticed one of the guards pull a dagger from his belt. The bounty hunter's eyes widened, and jumped back just before on of the other guards swiped him with his blade.

"Kill him! Kill him NOW!" the client shouted, taking two of his men and running out through a rear entrance.

"Damn it!" Jarro cursed, pulling out his scimitars. He swiped this way and that, but the guards were good. One of them came at with him with a hammer, and, although it didn't kill Jarro, it winded him, making him fall back. Then, another tried to stab him, but Jarro rolled out the way, pulling him down by his foot. Then he cut off the guard's head and chucked it at the others. The blood from it blinded another and he fell back, over a railing and into a pool of water below. Jarro threw his sword at a curve, bouncing off the amour of a guard and coming back to it's owner. Then the bounty hunter jumped off another guard, making him fall into the pool, and then Jarro stabbed another through the neck. When the others realized it was a futile attempt, they each took lit torched and set fire to the supporting struts, before jumping into the pool.

Jarro scowled before his lungs were filled with smoke. But he didn't have time to cough, he had to get out of there as soon as possible, the building was falling behind him. Suddenly, a massive tear sound came from above and a large section of rood landed just inches from Jarro. In a split second decision, he jumped into the pool of water as well. Several bodies floated to the surface, presumable dead from the smoke. Jarro chanced a look up, before the entire ceiling fell on him.

Jarro woke to the smell of fire and burning, and to the screams of dozens. He was buried underneath a strut which provided him a small pocket of air. He pushed it off him and held his breath, searching for an exit. He found a small grate and pulled several boards of wood from it. Suddenly, a flurry of sewage and excrement erupted from the grate, pushing Jarro back. He nearly gagged from the stench, but swam into the sewage pipe. It took what seemed like hours bur eventually jarro reached a manhole and pushed it, climbing into the city. That's when he found the source of the creasm and fire.

The city was on fire.

Jarro deduced his traitor client must have set the city's houses on fire to purge any chance of the hunter escaping. He looked around him, people were dead or being roasted alive all around him. He saw the innkeeper, Keerava trapped under a strut, helpless against it's weight.

"Help... me!" she shouted.

Jarro nodded and ran towards her, but then a wall exploded outwards and crushed her whole.

"Oh god!" Jarro shouted.

He ran towards the exit, stumbling here and there. The gate was blocked by a door, so Jarro jumped onto a barrel and jumped over the walls. Then, he found a horse and jumped onto it. He was about to sleep, when he saw his client riding away on horseback. He patted his steed and pointed to him, the horse somehow understanding, and then he went to sleep.

When he woke, his horse was galloping fast, pursuing the client. His two guards then emerged from the trees around. Jarro pulled out his scimitars and held them outwards, instantly decapitating the two. When he looked down though, Jarro noticed his scimitars were in bad condition, so he dropped them and pulled out his crossbow. He lined up his shot, his target barely in sight, and pulled back the string. Then, he took one bolt and slotted it in. He waited a few seconds and then blew out a long breath. He closed one eye... and pulled the trigger.


End file.
